


A symphony forever left unfinished

by Theshycreeper



Series: Old songs with long dead notes [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Canonical Character Death, Child Neglect, Childhood Memories, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt, Exile, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ficlet, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Good Parent Wilbur Soot, Good Sibling Wilbur Soot, Good Wilbur Soot, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Wilbur Soot, Insane Wilbur Soot, Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Ghostbur - Freeform, Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romance, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Not a Crossover, Oneshot, Phil is a Bad Dad, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Wilbur Soot, The Author Regrets Nothing, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot-centric, dadbur, no beta we die like wilbur soot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theshycreeper/pseuds/Theshycreeper
Summary: He misses the sound of his brother syphony.Tommy wishes he could hear the music again and exile is silentThe thoughts of an exiled brother.
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Old songs with long dead notes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102001
Comments: 12
Kudos: 564
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	A symphony forever left unfinished

**Author's Note:**

> written on a whim, for fun.

Tommy wants Wilbur.

He thinks it really without even meaning too. A natural raw thought that comes forth and draws all his attention, despite his want and effort to ignore it.

Thoughts like these always seem to consume him on the cold lonely nights like this, filling his head with water before he even wakes the next morning to drowning in it.  
He wants his Wilbur.

Not the shell, the hollow imitation of his brother that follows him around with blue stained ethereal hands that mark anything he touches. A constant reminder of how his presences is a never-ending pain for the teen, despite the ghost's efforts and the teen's want to just be able to play along, as if this was the brother he had always known.

All soft and broken tones from a voice that used to sing, used to bring a warmth to hear now burns with its chill, echoing in his head. 

He wants his brother.

Not the broken twisted imitation of him his brother had become, spitting and choking on words like venom. A frantic scrawl of letters on pages of a distorted, broken symphony.  
The violin out of tune, the flute piercing in volume just like his brothers screams in the dead of night, fighting something he could never see.

A feral, hurt, wild animal far too dangerous to approach.

The tuba too low, notes too long and far too haunting echoing down the ravine’s walls, ever present.  
The yells of a broken man with broken ideas, craving fire and death to end it all.

The piano which once played all of its notes on a whim, coming together to something so beautiful now only reduced to one, hollow note, all the others broken, unable to ever be played again.  
The crazed muttering of one who once jumped at shadows, now welcoming them with manic glee and a greeting.

The kettle drum, being hit far too hard, booming painfully before it broke, now silent and destroyed.  
A hole torn through the center.

A stab wound, open, raw and bloody in the center of his chest and looking truly, genuinely happy for the first time in years.

And the conductor, who once lead a beautiful symphony, his Wilbur

Lays dead at the podium, slumped and silent with a sheet of music in his cold hands.

A long careful scrawl of notes, of all his regrets,of all the things he wishes he could take back, of all the love he held for their now long broken family and friends, stained with his own blood. 

Tommy remembers sitting, listening to the symphony and watching the conductor in awe.  
He was never one to listen to such things but this was Wilbur, his Wilbur, and that made it all the more worth it. Though, he would never admit that too his brothers face, an image of a smug face and teasing, laughter loud but fond, coming to mind.

He remembers it just being him there to listen, despite the whispers of passerby’s who just “Didn’t have time” to.

Tommy thought it was stupid, why didn’t Phil and Techie want to watch something so clearly worth the time?

Then he remembers Tubbo joining him after they found him, remembers him staring in awe with him.  
Gripping his arm tight and pointing at Wilbur, the conductor, with a wide smile he was more than happy to match. 

Then he remembers when a new song started to play and others began to join, clad in blue, smiling wide in the shroud of the walls that kept them safe and the symphony uninterrupted. 

The sound of a small fox’s paws clapping and cheering, eyes bright with a fire that grew just as quickly as he did. The sound of soft feminine laughter, like a song of its own.  
The deep rumbling chuckles of the glasses clad man, smirking softly. 

Despite all the empty chairs, the room felt full with the audience gathered.  
They called and laughed, and smiled at the conductor, and he did the same.

But now the audience is empty and the conductor is dead. 

Tommy wishes he could hear one last song now, sitting alone in his cold, pathetic excuse of a tent.

He slowly walks over to his ender chest, legs and hands shaking as he pulls out far and puts it in the jukebox, letting it play the familiar tune while staring down the dark ocean waters as if challenging them, daring them to grab him by the ankles and drag him down now.

The music is a calm melancholy on the cold night wind. 

The music is nothing compared to his brothers.

He wants Wilbur.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, thats, that garbage


End file.
